The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  “Ye should have asked one of the men to fetch the water fer ye,” he said, stepping forward.

  She let out a small shriek of surprise and dropped the buckets. One caught on the current and floated downstream. James bent down and plucked it from the water, then moved forward and scooped up the other. He filled them, then set each on the ground, just within her reach. Yet she made no move to retrieve them, instead staying crouched at the water’s edge.

  “Ye startled me,” she declared, wrinkling her brow as she studied him cautiously.

  “I beg yer pardon,” he replied, squirming slightly under her accusing gaze. “I dinnae expect to find a lady hauling water like a servant. One of the men should have seen to yer needs.”

  Her eyes widened and she dipped her chin. James thought he saw the hint of a smile, but could not be certain.

  “The men are busy setting up camp and attending to other matters,” she replied. “I dinnae want to be a bother. Besides, my aunt prefers that I make myself useful. She and my cousin will need fresh water to wash the dirt from their hands and face and since we brought no maids with us, I was charged with the task.”

  “Cousin? The other young woman is not yer sister?” he asked.

  “Goodness no,” she replied with a quick shake of her head. “Joan is my cousin. Our fathers were brothers, mine being the younger of the two.”

  “Was?”

  “Aye. He died five years ago; my mother, too.” Her voice trembled slightly at the words and a trace of sadness gathered in her eyes.

  “Yet the wound is still fresh,” he said sympathetically.

  “There are times that I feel the loss more keenly than others. I suppose attending the king’s funeral was a stark reminder of the finality of death and in turn I’ve felt the pain of the loss anew.” She curled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ye must forgive me fer being so emotional. My cousin Joan often reminds me how annoying that can be and says that five years is more than enough time to heal the wounds of loss.”

  He disliked hearing the defeat in her voice. How could her kin be so cold and unfeeling to her pain?

  “A true heart suffers more than a false one,” he said kindly.

  She lifted her chin a notch and James felt a rush of admiration. She was so determined to appear strong. His eyes met hers, and suddenly he could not pull away. The warmth and emotion shining forth from those sweet brown orbs seemed to reach inside his chest and wrap tightly around his heart.

  God’s bones, she was pretty. She did not have the mesmerizing golden beauty of her cousin, but her features were delicate and refined and wholly pleasing. An oval face with a generous mouth and smooth skin the color of fresh cream.

  Her dark hair was neatly tied in a braid that cascaded down her back, ending in the middle of her shapely backside. It glistened in the dull light that filtered through the branches and leaves. There was a clean, fresh fragrance emanating from it that drew him closer. With effort, he suppressed the urge to reach out and touch it, knowing it was both rude and inappropriate.

  Instead, he squatted down to his haunches, commanding her attention with his eyes. They were a glimmering shade of golden brown, fringed by long lashes and framed by finely arched brows, but it was the open honesty reflected in their depth that pleased him more than he could say.

  “We have shared a confidence and yet I dinnae know yer name, milady,” he said gently.

  “I am Davina.”

  “James.”

  “Aye, I know.”

  He stood, then reached out his hand to help her gain her feet. She frowned in puzzlement, then blushingly placed her bare hand in his. James could feel the delicate bones of her fingers as he drew her upward. For a wicked instant he thought to pull her off balance, so she would need to steady herself against his body, but he resisted such an unchivalrous notion.

  “I salute yer strength and courage in the face of yer grief,” he said quietly.

  She shook her head. “There are so many in this world that know the anguish of real suffering. I can hardly place myself among their numbers, fer I have been provided shelter, food, and protection. I know I am viewed as a burden by my relatives, but they have not shirked their duties and fer that I am truly grateful. Rarely a day passes that I do not miss my parents, and yet I know that I am a fortunate woman.”

  Her words were honestly spoken, yet there was a touch of yearning in her voice, edged with sadness. He had been blessed with loving parents, raised within the security of a proud, noble clan. She had been taken in by relations because they felt it was their Christian duty and obviously keenly felt that obligation. Yet she had not succumbed to self-pity, but instead had risen above it.

  “I will provide ye escort back to camp,” he said commandingly.

  Her eyes startled and she lowered her chin. “I dinnae wish to impose, Sir James.”

  “’Tis my duty.”

  “Duty?” Her lips pursed in confusion.

  “Aye. To aid a beautiful lady in distress. I beg ye not to deny me the chance to act the noble knight.”

  “We are but a short distance from camp,” she protested even as he hoisted her onto his mount.

  She instinctively pressed her knees against the horse’s flanks to keep from falling and James admired the shapely outline of her legs as the skirt of her simple gown tightened around them.

  “A fair maiden should ride whenever possible,” he said before executing a low bow. “Especially one as lovely as ye.”

  He was flirting and saw the moment she realized it. Her eyes rounded with surprise, but to his delight, he saw an impish glint enter them. His instincts had proven correct—she was gentle and refined, yet hardly a prudish female. A bubble of amusement rose to his lips and he smiled.

  Davina dipped her chin, then smiled back.

  He lifted the filled buckets and looped the rope handles over the saddle pommel. Then James placed his foot in the stirrup and vaulted behind Davina. She gave a startled cry, but held her seat. Unused to the extra weight, the horse neighed and tossed his head, but James soon had the animal under control.

  He allowed the horse to begin ambling toward camp before casually placing the reins in his right hand and encircling Davina’s small waist with his left arm.

  “Relax,” he said softly, as he drew her slowly against his chest.

  She stiffened for a moment, then he heard her release a soft, sweet sigh. A surge of passion pulsed through his veins. Holding his breath, James waited to see what she would do next. Then, to his utter delight, she followed his command and pressed—nay nuzzled—herself into his embrace.

  James closed his eyes in heavenly delight as he breathed in her enticing scent. Aye, traveling to the Armstrong castle might prove to be a far more delightful task than he had the right to expect.

  A few days later Davina admitted the daylight hours in the saddle no longer made her tired and sore, while the nights sleeping in a crowded tent no longer left her restless and weary. And the explanation for that change was very simple—James McKenna.

  The young knight had proven to be a delightful distraction, regaling her with amusing tales and insightful observations. She enjoyed his company tremendously and looked forward to their time together with an eagerness that surprised and excited her.

  “I saw ye talking with Sir James again this morning before we broke camp,” Joan snipped as she pulled her mount alongside Davina’s. “What can he possibly have to say to ye?”

  Davina dipped her chin shyly, ignoring the trace of spite spilling over her cousin’s casual remark. Joan was a beautiful young woman, used to receiving the lion’s share of attention whenever men were present. Though not openly rude—for Davina was convinced her gallant knight incapable of such pettiness—’twas obvious to all, and especially Joan, that Sir James preferred Davina’s company to that of her cousin.

  “Sir James had drawn a map in the dirt,” Davina replied. “He was merely showing me how much farther we needed to travel before reaching home.”<
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  Joan’s eyes narrowed. “Ye were cackling like a hen laying an egg. How can a map in the dirt be so funny?”

  “James has a gift. He can make anything fun and amusing.”

  “What a perfectly useless accomplishment,” Joan sneered. “I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked that ye would be drawn to that sort of man, but I had hoped ye would have more sense.”

  That sort of man? Davina struggled to hold back another hen cackle. Handsome, well spoken, with a sparkle in his eye and a dimple in his chin. Aye, she did like that sort of man. Any lass would be daft not to be intrigued by him.

  But it was not just his square jaw, heart-melting smile, and handsome face that called to Davina. As an heiress to a small estate, she had on occasion received a small bit of male interest when Joan was otherwise occupied, especially now that she was a marriageable lass of seventeen. But there was something very different about James McKenna.

  He had a confidence that she found reassuring rather than arrogant, a gentleness that belied his warrior’s frame and training, a sense of humor that was the most heightened when it was pointed squarely at himself. Though Joan would deny it with her final breath, Davina could well understand her cousin’s jealousy and was even able to summon up the charity to forgive it.

  “James is a kind, polite man,” Davina said. “I find him interesting and enjoy being in his company.”

  “Ye are spending far too much time with him,” Joan insisted. “Others are starting to talk of it.”

  “Nay!”

  “’Tis true. I’m only speaking of it to save ye from making any more of a fool out of yerself with this silly infatuation.”

  Davina’s lips tightened. “I’m not acting like a fool.”

  Joan shrugged. “Ye do know he is only showing interest in ye because he’s heard that yer family keep is part of yer dowry?”

  Nay! The second protest sprang to her lips, but Davina remained silent, not wanting her cousin to see how much the words had wounded. For an instant her joy dimmed and the demons of self-doubt crept inside her heart. Was Joan right? Did James have an ulterior motive for showering her with so much attention?

  “I cannae believe that a small holding like Torridon Keep would hold much appeal to a McKenna,” Davina said, with far more conviction than she felt.

  “He’s a second son,” Joan replied with a malicious tilt of her chin. “They crave land like a man gasping fer air.”

  The self-doubt intensified for a moment as Davina considered the possibility and then forcefully cast it aside. She glanced at her cousin, taking in the mulish set to Joan’s lips. ’Twas jealousy, pure and simple, that caused such spiteful words to fall from her cousin’s lips. It had to be.

  Though she claimed to have no interest in him, Joan was irked because James was bestowing his favors upon Davina, not her. Davina knew her cousin possessed the ability to act callously, even cruelly when she was displeased.

  Almost as if sensing he was the topic of their conversation, James glanced over his shoulder and looked at her. The moment their eyes met, Davina felt her breath catch and her stomach tighten. A shiver ran through her, but she wasn’t cold—nay she was flushed with a warm glow that radiated from deep inside her being.

  ’Twas a response that defied logic.

  And it could not have pleased her more.

  The following day, they passed onto Armstrong land. No one said anything, but James could tell by the relaxed shoulders of the soldiers and their frequent smiles that they were nearing home. He felt a sudden pang of regret, realizing his time with the sweet Davina would soon come to an end.

  Then again, his father had not demanded that he return home quickly. If Laird Armstrong was amenable, he could stay awhile. Perhaps until late summer. Or fall.

  He glanced at Davina, who rode beside him. She favored him with a shy smile, then licked her lips. James felt his belly clench with desire. He had not yet worked up the nerve to steal a kiss—yet another reason he needed to stay.

  “Armstrong Castle is just beyond that hill,” she said, pointing toward the horizon. “We should arrive by nightfall.”

  “Why do ye not smile when ye say that, lass? Are ye not weary of traveling?”

  She tilted her head to one side as though considering his words. “A comfortable bed and a roof over my head will be most welcome. But life will seem very dull after this adventure. And what of ye, are ye anxious to return home?”

  James shrugged. “I’ve spent many years at the McKenna castle. It feels good to escape for a bit.”

  “I’ve heard tell that the McKenna castle is vast and formidable.”

  “Aye, it looms over the valley below.”

  “In a friendly manner?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  James boomed with laughter. “Nay,’tis menacing. Or so our enemies say. But ’tis a comfort to our clan. They know those strong walls, and the men within them, will protect and defend them.”

  “It sounds like a fierce place.”

  “It can be,” James answered, thinking of the high walls, battlements, four watchtowers, and large moat. “But my mother has worked hard over the years to soften the starkness. There are always fires burning in the great hall to keep out the dampness and she has replaced many of the weapons decorating the walls with finely woven tapestries. There is even stained glass in the windows of her solar.”

  “Truly?”

  James grinned. Aye, it was spectacular. Though he grumbled about the cost, Brian McKenna never denied his wife any luxury she desired.

  “The colored sunlight dancing on the floor is a sight to behold,” James revealed. “It always entranced my brothers and sister when we were children. Mother always told us ’twas the fairies bringing the magic into the chamber.”

  “’Tis difficult to imagine such a thing,” she murmured.

  His lips twisted into a smile. “Well, then, ye’ll just have to see it fer yerself one day, Davina.”

  Her smile brightened. “Aye, mayhap I shall.”

  Chapter Two

  Davina nodded to the guards as she hastened through the open gate, leaving the high walls of the castle behind her. Smiling, she hugged her woolen shawl tightly across her shoulders to ward off the chill of the fall air, then fairly skipped through the valley. The afternoon sunshine bolstered her spirits, but it was the secrecy of her errand that brought true joy to her heart.

  Her delight remained an hour later when she reached her destination. Shading her eyes with the back of her hand, Davina gazed at the summit of the craggy hill. The tall, male figure perched at the top was easy to recognize.

  James. My James.

  He waved and Davina’s heartbeat quickened, as it always did when he gazed at her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and savored the moment. The one thing she had prayed for, had longed for these past five years, had finally come to pass. For the first time since her parents had died, she had someone of her own.

  Someone who held her and comforted her and laughed with her. Someone who listened to her thoughts and feelings, admired her wit, encouraged her to speak her mind and share her dreams. Someone who valued her as a person—who regarded her as a woman.

  She lifted her skirts and sprinted up the hill. Arms resting comfortably on his hips, James waited for her. Breathless when she reached him, Davina stretched up on her toes and quickly kissed his freshly shaven cheek.

  “Och, now, Davina, is that any way to kiss a man?”

  Teasing laughter bubbled to her lips. “Cease yer bellyaching. Ye are the man who taught me how to kiss, James McKenna, therefore ye’ve no right to complain.”

  She gave him a saucy wink, then spun around and raced to the trees. Playfully, he gave chase, catching her quickly and easily. Laughing, he drew her close and they swayed together on the uneven ground.

  “I dinnae teach ye that sort of kissing, Davina Armstrong,” he said. “Give me a proper kiss.”

  Davina flushed with heat. James’s kisses were the most magic
al, wonderful things she had ever experienced. The more she had, the more she craved. Challenged by his teasing, she slowly twined her arms around his neck and leaned into him, molding her body against his solid strength. Hungrily, she again went up on her toes, then pressed her lips ever so softly against his.

  He remained still, his arms at his sides, allowing her to do the kissing. She pressed her mouth more firmly to his and let her hands travel over his shoulders to his back. After a moment she felt his hands slide down to her hips and rest there. Davina squirmed with pleasure at his warm touch, wantonly slipping her tongue along his bottom lip.

  James groaned, a sound that ignited her own growing desire. His tongue poked out and tangled with hers. Fire ignited between them. Davina gasped and arched in pleasure, eager to show him the passion he stirred within her.

  She shifted slightly, tasting the salt of his skin as her lips traveled to the exposed area of his throat, then up to the hollow behind his ear. She could feel his warm breath as he nuzzled the top of her head. It gave her a puzzling sense of comfort and she relished the feeling.

  I must truly be besotted to feel such things. Her hands moved down to his chest and she raised her eyes to his. The passion and tenderness she beheld brought a rush of emotions.

  He lowered his head and she leaned into him, eager for another kiss. He obliged her with several, but then drew back.

  “Dinnae stop, James,” she wailed. “Not now.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh, but kept his distance.

  Disappointment surged through her.

  “Ye make my body sing and my heart soar, but ye are a lady born and bred and I shall treat ye with the honor and respect ye deserve.”

  His gallant words did little to calm the trembling passion Davina felt, though she was humbled by his chivalry. And distracted enough that she allowed him to take her by the arm and stroll across the hilltop. By the time they reached the other side, her passion had calmed enough to be under control.